


Someone New

by plus_minus



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 11:11:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17424785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plus_minus/pseuds/plus_minus
Summary: Sasha attempts to gain a new friendship out of an old one.(Set sometime during the beginning of The Uprising Arc, after chapter 52 of the manga)





	Someone New

 

 

As the cold wind whirls past Sasha’s face, she remembers that it will be hunting season soon.  She recalls scurrying around the village as a young child, readying the hunters’ equipment before they’d set off the next morning with a cautious optimism. She had hoped to be like them some day, helping capture food sorely needed by the rest of the village. When she was ten she was finally allowed to go with them. It was a rite of passage, and the carved bow her father gave her before they began made her feel like a real adult.

But that only lasted for a couple of years. Now she herself is part of the prey, waiting to see if the enemy will find them. Tonight her duty is no different: diligently watch the darkness to ensure that no titans or Military Police have found the Survey Corps’ hidden cottage.

But Sasha never likes waiting for an attack that might never arrive, anything that she can’t actively pursue. It’s dull, which means she can only keep focus for so long. Her shift might have been easier if she’d foraged for mint leaves when she had the time this morning. Chewing on those always helps to keep her awake during these late night watches. In the moments when the wind is stagnant, the air still carries a damp humidity. She misses the warm sun that beat down on them all day.

Eventually she hears the sound of the door opening. Her shift will be over and Armin will take her place at the guardpost. She can’t see much by candlelight, but she can tell that the figure approaching is too tall to be the lithe blond boy.

Jean sniffs before he begins talking. “Hey. I’m just letting you know that Armin said he’ll be over in a bit. He’s just taking a leak out back.”

“Alright, that’s fine.”

“You know,” He sighs, turning towards the forest that expands before them. “Historia’s kind of freaking me out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Right after the battle at Wall Rose, one moment she was crying about losing Ymir, then the next she was laughing about how Krista was a fake name. And tonight at dinner, all that stuff she told us about her childhood. Like watching her mother get murdered. I know that she’s probably suffering from shock, but it’s still...weird. To hear all that coming from her.”

A few hours ago, everyone else had stared at one another in bouts of pity and horror as Historia spoke about her past in a bored voice, so different from the cheerful girl they once knew. Even Captain Levi, who was unfamiliar with Krista’s warmth, looked slightly unnerved afterwards. “It sounds like she’s had a tough life.”

“Yeah, but,” he shakes his head. “Have you talked to her at all since we got here?”

“Uh, not really.” There hasn’t been a need to. Historia hasn’t talked casually with _anyone_ , just takes her orders silently.

“Maybe you should at some point. You’re the only one that’s close with her, you know?”

She nods, mostly just wanting to finish the conversation so that she can go inside. By the time she lays down on her cot, she realizes that she regrets her easy compliance. Jean is fundamentally wrong. Sasha was friends with _Krista_ , not Historia. They aren’t close, not anymore. She doesn’t even know where to start in a conversation with this new person, who is cold and distant and not at all like the sweet girl she pretended to be.  

 

\---

 

Despite her initial hesitation, Sasha comes up with a starting point as she helps set up the table for breakfast. It’s hard to concentrate over the smell of fresh potato pancakes, warm biscuits and their coveted rations of bacon, but she does it. It has to be a sign that this next conversation will go well.

Through some weird fate (or just the chance of Eren’s planning), the two girls are assigned to clean the dining room just after lunch. Sasha mops the floor silently as she watches Historia dust the windows and chairs out of the corner of her eye. Historia wears same vacant stare that she’s had the past few days. It’s one that Sasha has seen too many times: on the dazed soldiers in the aftermath of every battle, in the girl from her home village that watched her mother being consumed by a titan. It’s a look of helpless loss. But to her credit, Historia hasn’t lagged behind in any of her chores. She has the strength to move on, at least a little.

For once Sasha enjoys the menial task of cleaning, but only because it is compared to the more difficult one of talking. She takes a deeper breath than normal before she begins. “Historia, do you remember way back when, when you said that I could speak how I wanted to? When we were by the well?”

“Yes, I do remember.” she replies, hands still moving.

“Thank you for saying that. It was nice to know my own words were good enough.”

“You’re welcome,” she mumbles. “But it’s not worth mentioning.”

“Um, I don’t understand—”

“What I’m trying to tell you is that I might have been lying when I said that. Why should I care about how you speak? Or how anyone does?”

“Uh.” Sasha drags her mop limply across the floor. The food crumbs below become soppy and break apart even further. She should’ve used the dustpan before getting this section wet. “I just thought that maybe you did.”

“When I did those nice things for everyone over the years, that wasn’t me. It’s not who Historia is, you know.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this up.” Sasha begins a retreat into the hallway. The water spills from the bucket when she grabs it.

She’ll give Historia space. The job can be finished when she can be in the room alone. “If there’s anything I can do for you, just tell me, okay?” she offers softly from the doorway, trying one more time to right this misstep.

“There’s nothing,” Historia replies cooly before continuing to wipe the dust off the window frame. “I’m sorry if you were expecting a different answer.”

 

\---

 

After dinner Connie sits in the rocking chair on the front porch, biding his final minutes before he must take his turn standing watch. Sasha sits adjacent to him, leaning on the wooden end table. When she’s finished telling the story of her conversational blunder with Historia, he lets out a small chuckle through his nose. “I’m not surprised. I don’t know why you thought it would turn out any better.”

“Because I’m an idiot that thinks they can talk to people when they can’t?” It’s not even the first embarrassing social interaction she’s had with the girl. A couple of years ago over dinner in the mess hall, Sasha had told the story about the worst famine she’d lived through. The reserves in her village had gotten so low they’d resorted to eating horse meat. It didn’t taste very good, but it kept their bellies full. Krista cried at the thought of eating that particular animal, and Sasha was left apologizing frantically.

“No, that’s not it. It’s because she’s not who we thought she was.” he sighs. “Everyone’s had a shit life, even her. But I guess it just goes to show that she probably _did_ have a thing with Ymir.”

This time, Connie’s laughter is unwelcome. “Uh—I guess. I don’t really know,” she mumbles. Near the end of their training, Hannah told nearly the whole squadron about catching Krista and Ymir making out in their barracks. At the time, Sasha thought it was harmless gossip: Hannah must have just been looking for attention with another attention-grabbing (and likely exaggerated) story. Many of the 104th believed her, though. After all, it _was_ strange that Ymir was crass and unapologetic about every single thing, yet she and the benevolent Krista were always in one another’s company. Some other trainees had even responded with their own stories of discreet physical contact and blushing. But Sasha didn’t agree with spreading others’ business. Whatever was between Krista—well, Historia—and Ymir was surely meant to be kept private.

“You know, I’d hoped that maybe she was one of the few who hadn’t had it so bad, since she was always so kind and warm. She saw the best in everyone, even an asshole like Ymir. But I guess you can only keep up a charade up like that for so long before some of your true character shows through.”

“So you don’t like her now? You think she’ll be like this forever?”

“That’s not what I said, Sasha. She’s still one of us.” He says, idly peeling off one of his fingernails before tossing it onto the floorboards by his feet. “But I think it’s like meeting a new person all over again. Maybe we have to get to know her first before she really likes us.”

“Um, how should we do that?”

“Well, people usually love it when start a conversation about something they like.”

 

\---

 

Connie tells her to wait a couple of days before she tries to speak again to Historia. And she listens, just as she always does with these types of things. Connie tends to give good advice.

Later that week, Sasha heads into the horse stalls to give the animals their morning meal. When she grabs the feed bucket by the door she hears indistinct humming in one of the stalls in the opposite corner. She doesn’t expect anyone else to be in there. Moving carefully, she tries to get a better look.

It’s Historia. She gently brushes a horse’s mane, picking away dirt and swatting away the bugs that gather on its face. “There, there. I hope you’re feeling a little better,” she comforts the grey stallion. She leans in to rest her cheek just above its nose. “You’re getting bitten up so badly. I wish we had some vinegar to keep the flies away. That always worked for our horses.”

Although she is the one that is supposed to be in the stable, Sasha suddenly feels out of place. She shouldn’t ruin the peaceful moment Historia is having. Maybe it’s the brightest she’s felt in days. But as tries to sneak out, the crunch of hay and leaves under her boots announces her presence.

Historia turns around. They stare at one another for a few seconds. Sasha bites her lip, unsure of what she should say...if she should say anything at all. Krista Lenz always said that she loved horses. Does Historia Reiss feel the same way?

Before she can decide what to do the blonde girl speaks, eyes downcast. “I was supposed to be cleaning the windows right now. Please don’t tell anyone. It was only a fifteen minute break.”

“It’s alright.” Even the best soldier slacks off once in a while. She takes the wooden bucket to the feed barrel and is about to dunk it in, when Connie’s voice enters her head to chastise her. _'This is the part where you should talk to her, you know,'_ he would say dryly. ' _Just don’t mention the taste of horse meat this time.'_

“So, are um, horses your favorite animal?”

Historia stills the rag that she began rubbing against the glass only a few moments ago. “I think so.” She hums again, this time less cheerfully and more contemplative. “I guess nobody’s ever asked. I liked all of the animals we had on the farm, though.”

“Would you want to feed the horses, then? We could switch our chores.”

“You would do that...for me?”

“Of course. Maybe you could tell me a little bit more about the animals you like—if you want.”

As she takes the bucket from Sasha’s hands, a nascent smile works its way onto Historia’s face, her lips tugging upwards and her eyes brightening. Sasha reflects a grin of her own as she’s handed the cloth to begin her new task.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope it was worth your time.
> 
> Happy birthday to Historia Reiss, a character who rose up despite hardship and abuse. A character certainly worth celebrating...we will have to see how her story ends.


End file.
